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“And who will they believe? The new girl, the one who has been poking her nose where she doesn’t belong, or me?”
He grins, and his eyes dip to my lips briefly. I can’t tell if there’s any emotion behind it or if it’s merely a reflex. Maybe he gets off on asserting dominance.
Maybe I get off on it too.
I rub my legs together slightly, the uncomfortable feeling blooming between them.
He’s right though. I’d be the one to hang. Maybe this whole arrangement is the safety net I didn’t see coming. He can’t marry a dead girl.
“I don’t understand,” I say softly this time. The anger ebbing from my body. Maybe he’s saving me in some strange way. “Why are you keeping me here, alive, after what I did?”
“It serves a purpose for me to keep you alive, and once you no longer serve that purpose, I don’t care what happens to you.”
He pushes back, letting the light flood between us once more. The whole time he was hovering over me, my focus was tunneled in, and now, I feel like I am waking up from a trance. I suck in a deep breath.
“Get ready. You have forty-five minutes, and then Fernando will bring you downstairs. I left a bag on the end of the bed. Put some makeup on and brush your damn teeth.”
Screw him. I knew my breath stank.
I wait until the door thuds behind him before I throw off the covers. The chilly air immediately makes my skin pebble with goose bumps. I was heated last night after the dinner where Connor dropped a bomb on me, and I slept in nothing—a fact I almost wanted Connor to find out when he was over me. I think our chemistry would be explosive. But beyond glancing at my mouth, he didn’t show much interest in discovering what was beneath the covers.
I grab the bag on my bed and head for the bathroom. There’s some makeup, some hair ties, a hairbrush, and a toothbrush, and as I dig through it again, my fingers find a hard plastic handle. I pull it out, my eyebrows rising in surprise at the disposable razor. I glance down at my legs, which are definitely starting to sprout, and then reach to turn the fancy shower on. I finally figured it out fully after not having much to do for days on end.
I jump in and clean myself, and then I take some time to shave my legs and armpits. It feels nice to have smooth skin again. Once I towel off, I brush my hair and then twist it up in a low bun since I have no way of drying it and it’s definitely not going to air-dry in forty-five minutes.
I dab concealer underneath my eyes and run some mascara over my lashes. Then, I brush my teeth and swipe the lip gloss on and smile at myself in the mirror. I look decent, maybe even better than decent.
The dress hanging beside my other dress in the closet is stunning. I pull it out, my jaw dropping at the price tag still on it.
Fourteen hundred dollars?
I’ve never owned anything that was even one-fourth the price of this. Most of my clothing came from thrift shops and bargain stores.
You don’t own this dress, Wryn,I remind myself.
I quickly pop the tag off and slip it on. It’s tight but not indecent. It fits me perfectly, and I find that weird—that someone could eyeball me and buy the exact size and fit that I needed. I wonder who did the shopping.
I put my heels on again and then look in the mirror. I look refined, dignified, like someone in mourning.
But I’m not. I don’t lie awake at night, regretting my actions. Even though nightmares keep me up. It’s a consequence I have to live with now. Seeing his face when I close my eyes. Seeing him fall to the ground, gasping for breath. I know Bertrand Soltorre had something to do with Ruby’s disappearance, and I’m not sorry the bastard is dead. I’m only sorry I got caught.
The door opens, and Fernando stands there, arms crossed. He glares at me, and I feel the shift in his feelings toward me since yesterday. He must have gotten in trouble.
“Let’s go,” he says and swiftly turns, walking ahead of me.
We follow the same back stairs that lead to the kitchen, but this time, we pass the door and head to another one. Fernando opens it, and I glance out, seeing a black SUV parked right beside it. I breathe deeply, the morning air greeting me, and I smile, stepping outside in the light. It feels nice to be out here today. Even if I’m going somewhere I desperately don’t want to be going.
A man opens the side door, and I climb up, startled when I see Connor already seated across from me.
He’s got papers strewn on his lap, and he gives me a cursory glance before looking back down. He must think I’m presentable because he nods to the driver, who climbs up front, and we leave.
“Where is Lilliana?” I ask, and he continues to write something down.
“With her mother,” he says, not offering any other response.
I sit back and turn my attention to the window. I see that my car is gone once we pull off the property. Tire tracks run from the wooded area to the road, showing that it was either driven out or towed.
“Where is my car?”
